


Blinking Lights Atop a Chrome Faceplate

by cantodelcolibri, SleepySak



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hanzo Shimada who claims to be a human man but is obviously a two headed dragon, M/M, WTNV AU, good ol fashioned pining, lucio loves everyone he doesnt know a crush even when it bites him in the ass, sheriff mccree takes his job too seriously, there's dragons now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2018-10-25 06:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10758615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantodelcolibri/pseuds/cantodelcolibri, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepySak/pseuds/SleepySak
Summary: A friendly desert community where the sun is bright, the moon is questionable, and a ring of orbs provide the gateway towards tranquility within the walls of our humble community radio station.Welcome to Grand Mesa.





	1. Episode One

**Author's Note:**

> this is the most self-indulgent thing i have ever written

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick explanation on dialogue:
> 
> "-" is Lucio  
> "~" is Hana  
> Everything else is Zenyatta, unless stated otherwise

A friendly desert community where the sun is bright, the moon is questionable, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep.

Or, in my and our demographic of omnic citizens’ case: enter sleep mode.

Welcome to Grand Mesa.

 

Hello, listeners.

To start things off, I’ve been politely asked to read this brief notice. It goes as such:

The Grand Mesa City Council announces the opening of a new WatchPoint just off of Route 66, near the Ralph’s. They would like to remind everyone that agents are not allowed in the WatchPoint. No one is allowed in the WatchPoint.

It is possible you will see the Hooded Figure in the WatchPoint.

**Do not approach it. D O  N O T  A P P R O A C H  T H E  W A T C H P O I N T.**

The fence is electrified and highly dangerous. There is a turret system in place to deter unlawful entry, which is, truly, the only kind of entry. Do not look at the Watchpoint, and especially do not look for any length of time at the Hooded Figure. The Watchpoint will not harm you. The Hooded Figure…

 

And now, the news.

Old Woman Ana with her daughter Fareeha, out near the Hover Car Lot, says the Angels revealed themselves to her. She said they were ten feet tall, radiant, highly armed and decorated celestial soldiers. That one of them was “as pale as a stale piece of bread with a personality to match,” and the other was black and spoke French. She said they helped her with various household chores. One of them unclogged the sink drain for her – it was backed up with tea leaves. She’s offering to sell the soggy wad of tea leaves, which has been touched by an Angel. It was the black Angel, if that sweetens the deal for anyone. If you’re interested, contact Old Woman Ana, or her daughter Fareeha. They’re out near the Hover Car Lot.

A new man came into town today. Who is he? What does he want from us? Why his angry and pained aura? Why his distraught and beautiful soul? This new man, listeners, is very interesting. I sense discord coming off of him in waves, yet he shows no outward signs of distress. He says he is a cyborg. Well…we have _all_ been cyborgs at one point or another in our lives, haven’t we?

 

_-No, Zen. We haven’t.-_

 

Ah, but we seem to have a mix-up here in the studio! Our weatherman is calling on you, dear listeners, to call-in! Share your testimonies of your time as a cyborg! I’m sure there is an abundance of stories just waiting to be heard—!

 

_-No no no! No that’s cool. I take it back, man. No call-ins, please.-_

 

I humbly request the Council form a census of those of us who have at some point in our lives been cyborgs. Intern Hana, please send an email.

To those of you still wondering out there, Intern Lena is still Missing In Action ever since she was sent to investigate the light show over the aircraft graveyard just out of town. If you see her, please tell her we miss her terribly and hope she comes home soon.

 

Back to the subject at hand.   

There is no denying this man’s intrigue. But why now? And why here? And just what do the group of scientists he is accompanied with plan to do with the humming electrical instruments and hard light equipment in that lab they’re renting – the one next to Big Rein’s Currywurst?

No one has sausage like Big Rein. **No one.**

 

 _-You know he only changed his slogan to_ — _-_

 

Listeners, Weatherman Lúcio has lost his microphone privileges for the time being.

 

Just a quick reminder to all the parents out there: let’s talk about safety when taking your children out to play in the scrublands and sand dunes. If omnic, make sure their coolant is at an appropriate level and be sure to advise them against touching a human to avoid the dreaded “seatbelt buckle” effect. Such effect can be countered by clothing your children appropriately. If human, you need to give the child plenty of water, and make sure there’s a shady group of cacti in the area. If other, please be advised to alter these friendly safety tips to suit your needs. But all parents, regardless of biological or mechanical makeup, must keep an eye on the transport carrier colors.

Are the unmarked carriers circling the area blue? Probably the United Nations. I suggest you refrain from playing in the area.

Are they black with the image of a bovine skull inlaid with a sword depicted on its sides? That’s the Blackwatch Secret Police. They’ll keep a good eye on your kids, and _hardly ever_ take one. If one goes missing, please fill out a Missing Persons report at City Hall, and it will not be taken care of.

Are they militarized, red, and painted with minimalistic birds of prey the likes of which you would find doodled on the margins of a grade schooler’s homework? No one knows what those carriers are, or what they want. Do not play in the area. Return to your home and lock the doors until a Blackwatch Secret Police Officer leaves a sticky note on your door to indicate that the danger has passed. Cover your ears or shut down your sound receptors to blot out the screams.

Also remember: LúciO’s are basically sugar, so give your kids plain old granola and maybe some dried fruit slices as a snack after they play.

 

_-Hey!-_

 

Intern Hana, did you not lock the door behind you?

 

An experimental teleporting fighter flying through local airspace disappeared today, only to reappear in the Grand Mesa Elementary gymnasium during basketball practice, disrupting practice quite abruptly. The fighter flew through the small gym for only a fraction of a second, and before it could strike any players or walls, it blinked out of existence. This time, apparently, for good.

There is no word yet on if or how this will affect the Grand Mesa Bulls’ game schedule, and no word on if this is the work of their bitter rivals: the Deadlock Gorge Vultures.

Deadlock Gorge has always tried in vain to show us up through better tailored uniforms, healthier pre-game snacks, and possibly by teleporting a fighter jet into our gymnasium, delaying practice for several minutes at least.

For shame, Deadlock Gorge. For shame.

 

That new cyborg’s – who we now know is named Genji – team of scientists called for a town meeting. It seems our weatherman is just as interested in this cyborg as I am. Though, if I may be honest listeners, I think it has less to do with the discord I sense in him and more to do with his charm.

 

 _-He has a sculpted jaw (literally. It’s made of metal), amazing eyebrows, and a nose carved by Michelangelo (not literally this time). His hair is perfect, and_ —-

 

And we all hate, and despair, and love that perfect hair in equal measure.

Listeners, it has been brought to my attention that you may like to know that the scientist that called for the town meeting is in fact a gorilla by the name of Winston.

Old Woman Ana brought gullash and basbousa which were delicious, I’m told, but lacked nuts. She said the Angels had taken her nuts for a Godly mission, but if any friendly neighbor would be so kind as to help her “get some”, she would be forever grateful.

 

_-You’re doing this on purpose now, and Fareeha’s gonna kill me for letting you.-_

 

Genji’s team of scientists told us that we are _by far_ the most scientifically interesting community in the southern U.S., as well as the most intact. They said they have come to study just what is going on around here, and why what is going on elsewhere is not going on here. The team of five stood patiently to wait out the applause, and opened for questions. As for Genji—

 

_-He grinned! I think it was because the blonde angelic one whispered something in his ear, but he grinned! He smiled, and everything about him was perfect, and I fell in love instantly.-_

 

Lúcio, you announced your love for me on air last week in a musical composition.

 

_~And me the week before that.~_

 

I was not aware I was in competition with Intern Hana for your affections, Lúcio.

 

_-I’m allowed to love more than one person at a time, guys. There’s enough to go around.-_

 

Agents from an unknown branch of the UN stood in the back, watching. I fear for Genji. And for Drs. Vaswani, Winston, Zhou, and Ziegler. I fear for Grand Mesa. I fear for anyone caught between what they know, what they don’t know, and a hard place.

We received a press release this morning. It has since then been scrubbed from my harddrive.

 

The local chapter of the NRA is selling bumper stickers as part of their fundraising week. They sent the station one to get some publicity, along with a pleasantly worded letter regarding our coverage of Blackwatch Secret Police Sheriff McCree’s seminar on gun safety last month.

And since we’re here to serve the community and not spread any misinformation whatsoever, I’m positively pleased to let you all know about this sticker campaign. The stickers are made from good, highly recyclable plastic, and read:

 

**Guns don’t kill people.**

**It’s impossible to be killed by a gun.**

**We are all invincible to bullets and it’s a miracle.**

 

Stand outside of your front door and shout “NRA!” to get yours today!

 

Genji’s team of scientists warn that one of the houses in the new development of Desert Creek, out back of the elementary school, doesn’t actually exist.

“It seems like it exists,” explained Vaswani, with hair that no doubt rivals Genji’s.

 

_-I agree, it’s very pretty.-_

 

And their lead scientist, Winston, added, “I don’t understand. It’s right there when you look at it. And it’s between two other identical houses, so it would make much more sense for it to be there than not. What’s interesting is that this one’s exterior shows traces of explosions at close proximity. See the ash marks along the side?”

But he says they have conducted experiments and the house is most definitely not there. The scientists are currently standing in front of the nonexistent house, trying to keep the daring Genji from leaping over the fence to knock at the door.

 

A great screeching was heard from the Grand Mesa Post Office yesterday. Postal workers claim no knowledge, although passers-by describe the sound as being a little like an omnic soul being devoured by some unknown power that may or may not be.

 

Lights were seen in the night sky above the Texas Roadhouse. Not the neon sign of the Texas Roadhouse. Something higher, from the beyond. We know the difference. We’ve caught onto their game. We understand the “lights above the Texas Roadhouse’s” game. We understand.

They come from another world, and they come in peace.

Ladies and gentlemen and those that defy the lie that is the binary, the future is here, and it’s about 100 feet above the Texas Roadhouse.

 

Genji and his scientists, at the monitoring station near Route 66, appear to be puzzling over a map. Behind them, various machines are blinking sporadically, and the smallest scientist has taken to kicking them out of frustration. Her small robot companion has finally awoken from a restless sleep, and she would feel more comfort in that if she could figure out how it happened.

 

Traffic time, listeners.

The Blackwatch Secret Police are issuing warnings about the armored car out on the highways, driven by a character with flaming hair and his pig-theme-gas-mask-faced associate. They would like to remind you that you should not approach these individuals, as they are armed and prone to violence. Nothing, says Sheriff McCree, not even that huge bounty, is worth risking your life. He would also like me to remind you that, “I called dibs!”

However, he does say that it would be helpful if you all used your cars to form a barricade off of Exit 18, as the pair do show a certain reluctance to harming everyday citizens, and he could use that moment’s hesitation to finally bring the pair to justice. As long as everyone remembers to be cautious and reasonable drivers, things will turn out “Just dandy!”

And now, here’s Lúcio with the weather.

 

_[-Lúcio, comin’ at you!-](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yPW1HSc-nE4) _

 

 

Welcome back, listeners.

The sun didn’t set at the correct time today, report Genji’s team of scientists. They are not certain of many things right now, but they are certain of this. They checked multiple clocks and are certain the sun set fifteen minutes later than it was meant to.

I asked them if they had any explanation for this phenomenon but they did not appear to hear my query. Mostly they sat in a circle around an antique digital clock, staring at it, muttering at it, and poking at it. Or, well, the scientists did. Genji looked out to the fading sunset, a wistful expression on his face. His eyes—

 

 _-Which are my favorite color green_ —-

 

His eyes flashed red, for a brief moment. Then he closed them against the penetrating final rays of the sun.

Still, we must be grateful to have a sun at all, and that our small planet happens to orbit a comfortable distance within its habitable zone. Perhaps too comfortable a distance, but we must be grateful nonetheless. It is easy to forget in this desert climate, but it would be slightly difficult to survive without a sun. Only slightly.

Oh, but nearly impossible for you humans, I should add.

And so the next time the sun rises, take a moment to embrace and thank the Heavens for the warmth and light and, yes, even the extreme heat that our desert community is gifted with.

The City Council would like to remind me to remind you about the tiered Heavens, and the hierarchy of Angels. The reminder is that you and I should not know anything about it.

Please do not speak to or acknowledge any Angels that you may come across while shopping at the Ralph’s or at the 16-Bit Hero Game Center and Shooting Range. They do not exist, and if they did, would tell nothing but lies.

Report all Angel sightings to the City Council for appropriate treatment.

 

And now for a brief public service announcement.

Cone snails: can they kill your children?

Yes.

Along those lines, to get personal for a moment, I think the best way to die would be to be slowly dismembered limb from limb, completely conscious until the release of nothingness was delivered with the deliverance of your generator from your chest cavity. That would give your life perfect symmetry.

 

_-Zen, what the f@¢%.-_

 

I suppose if you’re a human, it would be getting swallowed by a giant snake. Going feet-first and whole into a slimy maw, is that not directly opposite to one of your natural births?

If not a giant snake, perhaps a dragon? Imagine meeting a dragon!

 

Speaking of the 16-Bit Hero Game Center and Shooting Range, its owner, Torbjörn Lindholm, reports that he has found the entrance to a miniature underground city in the bullet casing grating in Lane 5. He said he has not yet ventured into it; merely peered down at its majestic palm trees and broad avenues, complete with speeding cars.

He also reports voices of a distant crowd in the depths of that subterranean metropolis. Apparently the entrance was discovered when a patron shot their foot on accident and the resulting sea of blood temporarily flooded the streets and was mistaken for some sort of Biblical sign judging by the outcry of its tiny residents.

It would not be unexpected, nor completely unwarranted nor undeserved, if this city’s population tried for retribution.

 

Genji, imperfect and beautiful, came into our studios during the break earlier— his unannounced presence briefly rendering our dear weatherman speechless— but declined to stay for an interview, and declined my offer for a later session of meditation. He, like the rest of his companions, had some sort of mechanical box in his hand covered with wires and blinking lights. Said they were testing the place for “time displacement.”

Unfortunately, I have never been a scientist at any point in my life, and so did not know what it meant when the instrument whistled and beeped. When Winston, the gorilla, put it close to the microphone it sounded like, well, like the cry of a startled nest of baby birds. An interesting sound, if somewhat alarming.

Genji and his team of scientists looked nervous.

 

_-Yeah, I wonder why. But seriously, I’ve never seen that kind of look on someone with that strong a jaw.-_

 

He and his team left in a hurry. They told us to evacuate the building! But then, there are only three of us here, plus Station Management, unless Intern Lena has returned in the interim?

Intern Lena?

 

_~No dice, Zenny.~_

 

Ah well, one must always hold onto the hope that one’s loved ones will someday return to them. And if we evacuated, who would be here to greet her with open arms upon her arrival? Who would be here to speak sweetly to all of you out there and remind you that you are not alone?

It’s settling in to be another clear evening here in Grand Mesa. I hope all of you out there have someone to sleep through it with. Or, at least, fond memories of when you did.

Goodnight, listeners. Goodnight.

 

 

  
_Today’s proverb:_ 郷に入れば郷に従え。

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the proverb is Japanese for "When in Rome, do as the Romans do."


	2. Episode 2

The desert seems still, barren, even desolate. But as we all know, the desert is teeming with life and is actually doing quite well despite our forefathers’ ill-management of world-threatening affairs. And yet, scientists tell us that somewhere, even now, there is war.

Welcome to Grand Mesa.

 

The Grand Mesa Tourism Board’s 'Visit-able Grand Mesa' campaign has begun. All around town, posters have been adhered to every available patch of wall and air. These posters are encouraging families to go out on a scenery-filled jaunt through the trails of Radon Canyon.

Their slogan? “The view is literally breathtaking.” I suppose that's a fair warning to those of you that draw breath.

Posters will be placed almost exclusively around Grand Mesa. How this will attract tourists from beyond our small town, I surely do not know. Maybe someone with a big following could get it trending? Someone with say, over a hundred million subscribers on her gaming channel?

 

_~Do I get a cut? I have tuition to pay for, you know.~_

 

Or someone with say, just as many subscribers and multiple labels trying to start them?

 

_-Now who’s that?-_

 

Listeners, bring a poster along with your self to the Tourism Board Office to enter in one of the promotional giveaways of antiquated hazmat suits and re-breathers.

 

And now, the news.

Have you seen the glowing eyeball that has been moving in from the north? Well, Bastion and Ganymede – you know, the farmers? They saw it over the northern ridge this morning and said they would have thought it was the rising sun if it weren’t for the time of day.

Apparently its iris shines in a variety of colors, perhaps changing to suit the tastes of its observer, although all report a low mumbling and utter calm when it drew near.

One death has already been attributed to the Iris. But odds are, it’s a completely isolated event, and nothing much to worry about. If we shut down the town for every mysterious event that at least one death could be attributed to, we’d never get anything done now, would we?

That’s what the Sheriff’s Secret Police are saying, and I completely agree. Although, I would not go so far as to endorse their suggestion to run directly at the Iris, screaming and waving your arms in an attempt to coax it into doing something interesting.

 

Here’s something odd: there is a rabbit hovering in the bathroom here in the radio station. He seems perfectly happy and healthy, but is floating about four feet off the ground next to the sink. He seems unable to move from his current hover-spot. He is a curious little thing, as most rabbits are, and has already chewed the decorative plant potted by the spot he materialized. In addendum, as he’s right by the sink, it was simple to leave some water and food where he could get it, and it’s nice to have a station pet.

To be honest, listeners, I have not yet interacted with our new pet. Intern Hana and Weatherman Lúcio, however, speak wonders of our furry friend. I do wish he weren’t floating in the bathroom of all places, arguably the only facility in the station I have no use for. Perhaps his appearance is a sign that I should start. Perhaps Genji would like to pet it at our next meditation session.

 

And now, a message from our sponsors.

 

I float above the cool sand dunes, brittle grass overgrown, and above me in the night sky above me I saw. The crackle of a shorted electric outlet, the scent of acrid smoke, and a smell I could not place nor could I escape.

I remembered other times that I could not escape. I remembered other smells.

I do not know where I am. I do not know where I am nor who I am meant to be. The world spun like it had lost control.

Concentrate only on breathing, and let go of any ideas you might have had about nutrition and flutes.

I float above the cool sand dunes, brittle grass overgrown, and above me in the night sky above me I saw.

 

This message was brought to you by Nano Cola.

 

The City Council, in cooperation with an unknown branch of the UN, is asking all citizens to stop by the Grand Mesa Elementary School gymnasium tonight at 7:00 for a brief questionnaire about mysterious sights that definitely no one saw and strange thoughts that in no way occurred to anyone. Because we are, all of us, normal individuals, and to be otherwise would make us outcasts from our own community as is written in the guidelines by the Council.

Remember the wisest of Sheriff McCree’s Western sayings: If you see something, say nothing. And drink to forget.

Omnics looking for alternative options: See Grand Mesa General Hospital to speak to a professional.

 

The probability of this being newsworthy material is slim, listeners, but Bastion and Ganymede – you know, the farmers – they report that the Iris is directly over Old Town Grand Mesa and appears to be raining emotions upon the earth. Empathy, despair, lizards, the human experience. You know, that manner of thing.

Fortunately, these seem to be conditions already identified by the Grand Mesa Neurological Society, so they said that it should be a snap to clean up. They have multiple therapists on site, so if that’s the worst the Iris has for us, it seems to me that you are safe to go about doing your daily errands. Just bring along a good strong umbrella able to withstand falling mental states of up to, say, the heavy weight of postpartum depression. And who knows! You may get lucky and find yourself drenched in exhilarating ecstasy! So if you’re feeling brave, shed the umbrella and test your luck!

More on the Iris as it continues to overcast our sky.

Here’s a tip: Take your kids out and use the Iris’ constantly mutating hue to teach them the names of colors. It’s fun, and it shows them the real-life applications of learning.

 

Alert: The Sheriff’s Secret Police are searching for a fugitive named Hanzo Shimada, who escaped custody last night following a 9:00 PM arrest after trespassing illegally into the City Hall Registry. Shimada claims to be a human man and is described as having one head, a height of approximately 5 feet 8 inches, mostly brown eyes, and weighing about 175 pounds. Aside from trespassing, he is suspected of attempted murder. Details are unclear.

When Shimada was put into custody last night, the Secret Police became suspicious when they found a fake driver’s license for a 5 foot 8 man named Frank Chen in his belongings. The Sheriff was called in, and after discerning that Frank Chen was actually— ah.

Hanzo Shimada is in no way related to our dearest Genji, whom I am being told coincidentally shares the same surname.

Coincidentally, of course.

 

 _-No, you know, I can see it? Dr. Ziegler showed me some old pics when you sent me over with a welcome basket. And when he takes off the shell. The whole bared-left-side-of-the-chest thing must be a fam_ —-

 

The Sheriff says Shimada escaped custody by ‘distraction and coercion’, and was last seen flying over roofs and shrieking all over the downtown area.

Secret Police are asking for tips leading to the arrest of Hanzo Shimada. They remind you that, if seen, he should not be approached, and warn that you not fall victim to his charms.

 

_~Distraction and coercion, huh?~_

 

Contact the Sheriff’s Secret Police if you have any information. Ask for Sheriff McCree.

Helpful tipsters will earn one stamp on their Alert Citizen card. Collect five stamps, and you get stop sign immunity for one year.

 

And now, a look at the community calendar.

Saturday, or well, today, Sheriff McCree is offering lessons in self defense in the living room of the scientists’ rented residence. Payable in advance, of course, except it has already begun.

Sunday is Dot Day. Remember, red dots on what you love, blue dots on what you don’t. Mixing those up can cause quite permanent consequences, and I advise you exercise caution and triple-check, just to be safe.

Monday, the Public Library will be unknowable. Citizens will forget the existence of the library from 6:00 AM Monday morning until 11:00 PM that night. The library will be under a sort of renovation. It is not important what kind of renovation. Elementary school students are advised to complete any book reports before then. That means you, Ms. Oladele.

Tuesday afternoon, join the Grand Mesa PTA for a bake sale to support Citizens For a Moon Colony. Proceeds will go to support deployment to our solar system allies at Lucheng Interstellar.

Wednesday has been canceled due to a scheduling error.

And on Thursday is a free concert! And…that’s all the sticky note says. But seeing as it is written in Sheriff McCree’s easily identifiable scrawl, I will go out on a limb and guess it will be have a country music theme.

 

_-Knowing him, there will be Beyoncé and norteñas too.-_

 

Speaking of Sheriff McCree, it seems his last-minute self-defense seminar has hit a snag. And by snag, I mean quite literally. Genji derailed the entire thing by demanding to know if the Sheriff had ever used his spurred boots to roundhouse kick someone in the face.

The Sheriff answered with, "Now do I look like one of 'em fancy motherf@¢%&+$ that can get their leg up that high!?" And it seems Genji took that as a personal challenge, listeners, because now the Sheriff's foot is caught in the scientists' curtains.

Genji himself has not stopped laughing. This happiness suits him.

 

_-His laugh sounds like wind chimes!-_

_~You guys are hopeless.~_

 

We have received a new call from Bastion and Ganymede – you know, the farmers? It seems that the Iris has doubled in size, enveloping all of Grand Mesa in its glowing light and humming chants.

Little League administration has announced that they will be going ahead with the scheduled baseball game, although there will be an awning built over the field due to the increase in lack of motivation and recklessness being dropped by the Iris. I’ve had multiple reports that lust, ardor, and hatred fell on top of the Desert Sands Ice Cream Shop. The shop is offering a free dipped cone to anyone who can figure out how to get it off.

 

Listeners we have just gotten word that a fight has broken out near the scientists’ residence. I have sent Intern Hana to investigate. As luck would have it, it seems Blackwatch Secret Police Sheriff McCree is already at the scene.

The Blackwatch Secret Police, however, have apparently taken to shouting questions at the Iris, trying to ascertain what exactly it wants. So far, the Iris has not answered.

The Iris does not need to converse with us. It does not feel as we tiny, mortal beings feel. It has no need for thoughts or feelings of love. It simply knows peace. It simply knows the comfort of nothing.

The Iris simply is.

Gaze into the Iris!

Gaze.

 

And now, followers of the Iris, here’s Lúcio with the weather.

 

_[-Let’s drop the beat!-](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_JmcO0vvxEk&feature=youtu.be) _

 

My apologies, listeners. I am not sure what happened in that earlier section of the broadcast— as in I actually _don’t remember_ what happened. Neither does Lúcio. He and I tried to play back the recordings, but they’re all blank and smell faintly of vanilla.

 

Putting that blip in the matrix of reality aside, listeners, we are back! And so is Hana, though she has returned with third-degree burns over a large portion of her body. To the friends and family of Hana Song, you need not worry, as Lúcio and I have patched her up and she has undergone a speedy recovery. Now, breaking news as brought to us by the fearless Intern Hana:

It seems that Hanzo Shimada, who claims to be a human, infiltrated the registry to discover the address of our beloved friend Genji, of no relation. He used the information he found to scope out the scientists’ home and confront the cyborg as he stepped outside to throw out the trash.

Genji, upstanding Alert Citizen that he is, identified Shimada from the reports and immediately pulled a katana from its scabbard on his back and fell into battle position. Hanzo Shimada responded by aiming at him with a bow and arrow. Then both proceeded to shed their human forms, not unlike snakes, and became… well. Snakes.

In the br- In Hanzo’s case, a two-headed one. In Genji’s… well it seems he is rather hindered by his decidedly abiotic body parts. However, what is visible of his human flesh has grown iridescent scales the color of a jade forest.

Is this Hanzo’s true identity? We all know he claims to be a human man, but as we can all see, he is clearly a two headed snake.

 

_-Is that a roundabout way of calling him two-faced?-_

 

My opinion of Hanzo Shimada has nothing to do with the other, much lovelier, and greener, snake.

 

_-Man, I didn’t even mention Genji.-_

 

My opinion still stands.

 

Intern Hana has informed me that Genji and Hanzo took on the form of dragons, not snakes.

They yelled, or roared, at each other in what seems to have been Japanese. After several tense minutes of fire-breathing and clawing, Hana’s intervention, and Sheriff McCree’s loud threats to public safety, they calmed. Still in their scaly forms, they talked.

Now I don’t want to sound naggy, listeners, but I am glad the br- the two of them have started to sort out their differences and embark on a path towards enlightenment. I am glad that in the time since Genji and his scientists arrived in town, he has learned to let go of the anger that would have driven him to a crime matching that of Hanzo’s. A crime that would no doubt leave him with just as much discord and heart-wrenching pain as I sense oozing out of Hanzo Shimada.

 

_~He’s not that bad! He apologized for burning me, and promised to help me on my Japanese homework.~_

_-Genji trusts him. That’s good enough for me.-_

 

It seems, listeners, that we are to have a new resident in town! Genji has vouched for him, and Hanzo Shimada will undergo a probation period under the lead scientist Winston’s scrutiny.

Blackwatch Secret Police Sheriff McCree, who has also spoken to the dragons and Hanzo in particular, does not seem as forgiving. Perhaps some other day he too will make peace.

 

The Iris, meanwhile, has moved on. It is now just a glowing spot in the distance, humming east to destinations unknown. We may never fully understand, or understand at all what it was and why it dumped such a sense of unease on our community.

But, and I dare say this may edge on the realm of getting a little personal here, that’s the essence of life, isn’t it?

Sometimes you go through things that seem unsurpassable at the time, like a mysterious glowing eyeball devouring your entire community. While they’re happening they feel like the only thing that matters, and you can hardly imagine that there’s a world out there that might have anything else going on. Where anything else could have happened a little differently.

Where it was not your blood splattered on a hanging scroll.

But we forgive the Iris.

And then the Iris moves on. And _you_ move on. And the event is behind you. And you may find that, as time passes, you remember it less and less. Or absolutely not at all, in my and my co-worker’s case.

And you are left with nothing but a powerful wonder at the fleeting nature of even the most important and terrible things in life— and the faint but pretty smell of vanilla.

 

Dear listeners, here is a list of things.

  * Emotions you don’t understand upon viewing a sunset
  * Lost friends, found
  * Lost friends, unfound
  * A secret lost friend city on the moon
  * Trees that see
  * Fish that witness
  * A void that thinks and understands
  * A face half-seen just before falling asleep
  * Trembling hands reaching for desperately needed warmth
  * Skin hunger
  * Silence when there should be noise
  * Noise when there should be silence
  * Nothing when you want something
  * Something when you thought there was nothing
  * An overpriced engagement ring
  * A musical healing ring
  * Your ears, inexplicably ringing
  * Night
  * Rest
  * Sleep
  * End



Goodnight, listeners. Goodnight.

 

 

 

_Today’s proverb: गर्जने बादल वर्षदैन!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thunder clouds do not always give rain.


	3. Episode Somewhere Between 8 and 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Telly is the one true constant.

Do not let the rumble of the ground below fool you. Our Earth spins at a rate of 460 meters per half note on a 4/4 time signature. It orbits the sun for 30 kilometers in the span of time it takes you to blink. Our entire solar system covers its route around the center of the Milky Way at a speed of 220 kilometers a second. All the while, galaxies hurl themselves with gusto into the great Unknown.  

Take comfort in the fact that everything is chaos and nothing is ever meant to sit still.

Welcome to Grand Mesa.

 

Let’s get a seven-day outlook, shall we? Here is your Daily Shades of the Sky forecast:

Monday: Hyacinth

Tuesday: Tan

Wednesday: Cornflower Blue

Thursday: Aqua Mist

Friday: Smog over Los Angeles

Saturday: Gunmetal gray with chances of mauve in the late afternoon

Sunday: Nintendo DS Lite™ in pastel pink

 

The Blackwatch Secret Police are still asking the public’s help in catching a dangerous fugitive on the loose in the greater Grand Mesa area. They say he is armed, and should be approached with extreme caution. They say he is armed with an arm covered in a blue dragon tattoo. They say he isn’t wanted for breaking the law anymore, just that his brother is worried and Dr. Ziegler won’t let him go out and do the searching himself.

For everyone’s protection, Sheriff McCree is keeping the name and a fuller description of the fugitive secret, but would cheerfully like to remind you that all strangers should be mistrusted and avoided… especially handsome new town members, because, “And I say this verbatim, Zenny, but ‘such beauty is wasted on the soul of a killer’.”

He added later in stricter confidence that friends and loved ones should also not be trusted, “‘Cause how well do you know all of ‘em, anyway? D’you know their location every second of every day? Do you even want to? We’ve all got secrets, and ain’t nobody gotta know all of ‘em.”

Furthermore, Sheriff McCree insists that the fugitive is wanted dead or alive and vigilante justice is, as always, highly encouraged.

 

The City Council has asked me to remind you, dear listeners, about the new drive to clean up litter. Grand Mesa is our home, and who wants to leave trash all over their home? Put it in the recyclers, listeners! Pick it up and throw it away. Do your part.

Unless the trash is marked with a small red flag or is otherwise easily identifiable as shrapnel remains of warheads from an alternate timeline. The Grand Mesa City Council has asked me to remind you that any litter marked with a red flag or not of this plane is not to be picked up or approached.

Remember the slogan: “No flag? Goes in the bag. Red flag or disobedient to the laws of our very existence? Run!”

 

In unrelated news, it seems the fugitive has been found.

Two hawk-eyed Alert Citizens have sent in reports to the Blackwatch Secret Police office that Shimada Genji, our curious visitor and hopeful resident, and Shimada Hanzo (of no relation) were seen getting their hair cut.  

 

_-It was us. We’re the Alert Citizens.-_

_~You sent us there. You sent us there, specifically.~_

 

Ah, yes. Those very citizens are here right now! Listeners, here is a firsthand witness account of the tragic event.

 

_-Zen, you gotta work on identifying emotions. I know I cried a little, but —_ _-_

_~They were tears of joy.~_

_-Excuse me, Hana, I was talking. But yes. Anyway —_ _-_

_~He was crying because he’s ga —_ _~_

_-Yes, thank you Intern Hana. Ignore her, guys. Anyway, Genji got a trim, and his hair is as perfect as it ever was. And it’s green now! Which is perfection squared.-_

 

All the more reason to hate, despair, and love that perfect hair in equal measure.

I have in front of me the official police report. It lists the happenings as a crime against nature, not on account of Genji, but on the two-headed dragon that we all know isn’t his brother. Hanzo is reported as to having had his gorgeous hair _shorn!_ Cut! Cut short! So very short from his singular head!

The Blackwatch Secret Police has issued a general plea to the populace, they ask that someone please explain why Hanzo would strip away _—_ decimate! _—_ any part of his thick black hair. Not to ignore the dignified, if premature, fan of gray at his temples.

I should note, dear listeners, that today is Sheriff McCree’s day off. I have no idea who in the police force has issued this plea.

The plea reads as such: "What treacherous barber would agree to such depravity? Who takes mere money, or even soulless joy, in depriving our small community of such a simple, but important, act as luridly admiring Hanzo’s stunning full head of hair?"

We have reports coming in saying that it was Telly the Barber. Telly, who likes _sumo_ and has posters of _combs_ and _scissors_. Telly the Barber, who betrayed our community, or at least has a personal vendetta out for a particular police officer. Or, perhaps, and don’t take this from me, listeners… Or perhaps he was doing his job.

 

_-I think they’re overreacting.-_

_~Yeah, I think Hanzo looks cool now. Less like he hopped out of an old Edo Period movie.~_

 

**Telly the Barber.**

Now let’s have a look at traffic.

 

Junkrat and Roadhog, hereinafter referred to as “The Junkers”, have found that their usual game of cat and mouse is not as fun when the cat is enjoying a day of well-deserved paid leave.

And that’s it for traffic.

 

Our top story today:

A large Dodecahedron has appeared in the center of the Tekhartha Mondatta Memorial Meditation Zone, destroying over half of the Zone’s state-of-the-art meditation equipment and paraphernalia. Experts have been contacted to discover what could have caused the Dodecahedron’s sudden existence.

However, as it turns out, there are no experts in Dodecahedron materialization. And the town’s other experts only offered shrugs, followed by panicked conjectures, and finally, screams. One of Genji’s scientists, a woman by the name of Satya Vaswani who goes by the moniker of “Symmetra”, warned of a possible tear in the fabric of reality, but her warning fell uselessly upon the Grand Mesa City Council’s willfully ignorant ears.

The Dodecahedron has been described as “a kind of pentagon shape, only three-dimensional.” It is colored a peculiar shade of cyan blue, is entirely translucent, and casts no shadow. It has made no movement despite repeated taserings by the Blackwatch Secret Police.

Many suspect that this may be a publicity stunt pulled by our own local cereal company, LúciO’s, who are launching their new line of brunch-time cereals this week.

 

_-I already said it wasn’t me!-_

 

An angry mob has formed outside the cereal factory, just in case.

 

**Telly.**

You remember, the deceitful barber with a troubled soul who, just a few moments ago, cut Hanzo’s allegedly perfect, beautiful hair very short _—_ so very, _very short —_ thus depriving our community of what I am being informed was our last remaining pleasure?

Well, I’m sure at least one of you will be happy to know that Telly was ostracized from our community and is wandering the Sand Wastes, howling at the sky, and holding up Hanzo’s shorn locks as though begging the Iris to reverse the crime committed. Reports indicate that his skin was blistering, that his eyes were bleary, and that he was recently seen trying to give a _cactus_ a haircut, whispering into what he seemed to think was its ear.

I both fear and admire the velocity at which our community acts when it bands together. You do fast work. I will keep that in mind the next time I inadvertently start a hunt.

In any case, if your cactus is in need of a haircut, try Telly, out wandering the Sand Wastes.

 

The Grand Mesa Public Library wants me to inform you of their exciting new renewal policy! This new feature in our county’s public library system makes it so you can turn in your books anywhere! That's right, anywhere!

We will find them.  

We will get them checked in in a timely manner. After all, we hate issuing late fees almost as much as I imagine you hate getting your corneas slowly replaced with radioactive minerals! It's a very tedious and frankly irritating process. Return your books, folks! We will find them anywhere!  

We will find you.

So, once your due date is approaching just return the book anywhere! But if you resent change and wish to keep doing what we’ve been doing since the dawn of time, renewals will still be accepted in the usual manner of walking into the desert until no artificial light from town touches your skin, and crying with every fibre of emotion in your being. If you lack tear ducts or perhaps suffer a deeper form of depression, the library also accepts phone call renewals.

 

An update on the Dodecahedron reported earlier:

Word is in that the Dodecahedron has spoken to us. It is broadcasting a repeated message on low-wave frequencies only distinguishable by machine. As I am in fact a machine, I can tell you that the message is as follows:

**“I come from light. I come from light made tangible. I come from light and to light I will return. I offer questions. I offer answers. These questions and these answers will not always align. The questions I provide may have no answers, and the answers I provide may have no questions. I will study the effects of these questions, and these answers. I will study the logic of this beyond.”**

I must commend the LúciO’s marketing department for what must be the best use of viral marketing in Grand Mesa since the Omnica Corporation released a virulent strain of some unknown virus back in ‘64. And, as a communicator by trade, I applaud their ingenuity.

The Blackwatch Secret Police has responded with heat-seeking missiles which, they say, will “pierce through that heart of darkness.” So far, they have not so much as made a scratch on the Dodecahedron’s many broad, shiny faces.

 

City Council has received a $1.5 billion check from the federal government this week. The check was made out to support rebuilding efforts from this past week’s massive earthquake, reaching an 8.6 on the Richter scale, the epicenter of which naturally did not exist. The earthquake did not exist. There are no fault lines anywhere near our town, and yet somehow the seismic terror occurred.

We experienced absolutely no damage to the town, even if everyone reported feeling the horrific effects of this enormous seismological event.

The Council says that they suspect that FEMA just saw the meter reading, declared this a disaster area, and sent a check. They don’t think they have any vested interest in Grand Mesa, so we can probably just spend the money however we want. My vote goes towards education.

I sent Weatherman Lúcio to ask Genji and his scientists about our inability to experience tectonic shifts. Lúcio told me that earthquakes didn’t fall within his purview, as earthquakes have nothing to do with weather, but Intern Hana dutifully kicked him out of the station anyway.

Genji, lovely Genji, shrugged at Lúcio’s question and directed him to Dr. Winston. Dr. Winston said that they had previously recorded other massive tremor activity in our city, and confirmed that it had nothing to do with natural earthquakes. Then his face darkened, an odd thing, given he is a gorilla, but he looked troubled. He denied Lúcio’s offer to come in and explain his worries here in the station, and Dr. Zhou politely offered Lúcio some tea and cookies.

Lúcio accepted her offer, and kind, kind Mei hooked elbows with Genji and led the group into the scientists’ beaker-strewn sitting room. Upon being handed a plate of cookies, Lúcio took a strawberry wafer and Genji remarked that those were his favorite. Lúcio then was swift to offer him his cookie, holding the pink confection up to where Genji’s mouth would be if it weren’t currently covered by his faceplate.

Genji’s response was a few seconds of stammering followed by a sigh and slow head shake. Lúcio quietly thought to himself that Genji’s eyes looked sad and distant – distracted, yet beautiful.

Lúcio then thought at me loudly to, as he says, “F#%& off!”

He turned back to Genji and asked him where he got his shirt. It fit him so well. Genji said he would try to find the receipt, but no promises. Hanzo appeared at the doorway only to see a group of people sitting comfortably around the coffee table and bolted. Lúcio ignored my own loudly thought thought and didn’t ask Genji if we were still on for Wednesday morning meditation.

I don’t know if he listens to me sometimes.

 

Update on the Dodecahedron situation. LúciO’s Board of Directors are vehemently denying that they are responsible for the Dodecahedron that continues to stubbornly exist in the Tekhartha Mondatta Memorial Meditation Zone.

Meanwhile, the Dodecahedron has altered its broadcast and sent out a second message, which is as follows:

**“Every action you’ve taken from birth has been futile. Death will be the last action you undertake, and it is the only one that will bear fruit. I do not live, but I exist. What is my purpose? I cannot tell you. One day I will discover my purpose, and then I will not tell you, for then I will die. And then you will die. We all must die.”**

The Blackwatch Secret Police are now attempting to charge the Dodecahedron with resisting arrest, on the grounds that they couldn’t figure out how to arrest it. Sheriff McCree has sent me an amusing message written in hieroglyphics _—_

 

_~Emojis.~_

 

 _—_ lamenting his officers’ ineptitude. More as the story develops.

 

In the meantime, let’s go to the pre-recorded weather, seeing as Lúcio is still on his unplanned tea date with the scientists.

 

[Oh, feel that healin’ beat!](http://phemiec.tumblr.com/post/148530864545/off-by-phemiec-2-songs-in-one-night-a-very-rough)

 

News from Old Woman Ana and her daughter Fareeha, out near the Hover Car Lot. They report that the Angels have gathered in a circle in their living room, and so very rudely blocked the view of the television, and Fareeha informs me her mother was watching her soaps, and that Ignacio was about to shoot Chabelo for Enrique’s love. If that is of interest to you listeners, I suggest you tune your holo tanks to Channel 8. Maybe give Ana a neighborly call to tell her how the episode ends.

The Angels are shoulder-to-shoulder, facing each other, radiant with holy light.

 _“16-Bit Hero Game Center and Shooting Range,”_  they are chanting. _“16-Bit Hero Game Center and Shooting Range.”_

Fareeha says that a repeat of the popular مسلسل سقوط حر she had really hoped to watch is on soon, and she is quite annoyed by their usually considerate Angelic house guests.

More on this story, maybe… if there ever _is_ more.

 

And now, a public service announcement from the Grand Mesa medical community.

Here in the desert, we get a lot of sun, and doctors are encouraging Grand Mesa’s human and/or carbon-based citizens to do regular skin checks. You may think that freckle or mole is harmless, but you never know when it will grow into something much worse, or indeed, who is doing the growing.

Chief Surgeon at Grand Mesa General Hospital Moira O’Deorain is noting an uptick in dermatological growths related to sun exposure. She describes these growths as “scales. They’re scales, Tekhartha Zenyatta. Now do me a favor and keep your flowery words to a minimum and tell your listeners that if they happen to have scales I want to see them immediately.” and assures this has nothing to do with the experiments she has been conducting with questionable authority.

This time.

Spontaneous scale growth has only been reported on two individuals, but Dr. O’Deorain insists that if left unchecked, these scales can develop a glistening sheen, a constant need for heat, and chafing.

So check your skin for scales at least once a week in the mirror. Dermatologists recommend a three-step process.

  1. Search meticulously for scales on your body. Don’t overlook anything.
  2. If you find any suspicious growths, mark them with a chalk circle.
  3. Do not do anything else. Call for emergency services and get yourself to Grand Mesa General.



If you are part of the 23% of our community that was born omnic, and therefore have no skin from which to grow scales and you grow scales anyway, then something is seriously wrong.

 

Well, listeners, it seems the Dodecahedron has disappeared as mysteriously and suddenly as it arrived. Dr. Vaswani’s presence at the scene and the way her robotic arm consumed it in a flash of white light is non sequitur, I am sure. But the Dodecahedron’s disappearance came too late, I’m afraid, for the LúciO’s Board of Directors, who have all been taken to the Abandoned Mine Shaft outside of town for processing by the City Council. Our own Lúcio Correia dos Santos had nothing to do with it, and the Council believes his every word.

The Blackwatch Secret Police are declaring victory in their standoff against the Dodecahedron… because, they say with their chests puffed out, it’s about time they won _something_. Back home on his couch, Sheriff McCree groans and buries his face in his hands.

Meanwhile, the Dodecahedron has left behind a much smaller Dodecahedron, a mere toy, a souvenir of its looming, inscrutable mass. This tiny Dodecahedron is broadcasting one final message – a farewell from the geometric shape that stole our hearts.

So let us wrap up our show today with its words:

**“Death is coming. Death has no hands and yet it still knocks at the door. With what does it knock? Some will die standing, others sitting. Many will die in cars. Many more will die fighting. Fewer still do not die, no matter the actions they take to ensure their own deaths. Death is coming. Actions are futile. We all die, in our time. In. Our. Time. I cannot show you this truth, but you must accept it. Step forward and tell someone of it, please.”**

You heard it here, listeners. Tell people. Tell people about LúciO’s new line of brunch-time cereals. Do it in memory of its Board of Directors.

 

Stay tuned now for an hour of pleasant small talk coming to you directly from the scientists’ sitting room.

Goodnight, Grand Mesa. Goodnight.

  


 

Today’s proverb: 오늘 한 시간이 내일 두 시간 보다 가치있다

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more worth in one hour today than in two hours tomorrow


	4. Episode Free-For-All With a Dash of Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Sleepysak's. She just doesnt know how to post stuff on here but she'd like you to know she says: cantodelcolibri is the best writing partner ever saying it here publicly so yall know this
> 
> thx
> 
> Anyway, you're gonna need... some translations. You can find them in the end notes

To tell yourself to never look back is to do yourself a disservice. How will you learn from your past if you never face it? Your flaws can be ignored but not erased. So remember to look back, because there is always something behind you. Look back. Look back right now. It is behind you.

Welcome to Grand Mesa.       

 

_~Hey Listeners! Just a quick announcement from Grand Mesa Radio Station’s cutest intern: I will be streaming once we go off air! You know where to find me! ;) ~_

_-....How did you say that out loud? Semicolon close_ _parenthesis?-_

_~No? You say it like— ;)~_

_-...Okay.-_

 

You know, Weatherman Lúcio, it’s not actually difficult to say various smiley faces or emojis out loud- for example you could say ⍰⍰⍰ in place of talking about your favorite color!

 

_-Zenny, buddy, I have no idea what you just said.-_

_~Yeah sorry, Zen. It’s just a bunch of boxes with question marks in them?~_

_-You get question marks? I just get plain boxes-_

 

That is rather odd. Perhaps it has to do with the fact I do not see as you do?

 

_-Yeah, let’s go with that.-_

 

Well! Now that that little discussion is over with, let us begin to perform our jobs as scheduled! Because it is not stream time yet.

Ladies, gentlemen, gentle-them, and citizens unburdened by pronouns, surely you have noticed… there is a Woman in a Purple Bodysuit. Many of our residents have seen her, but none seem to be able to recall her face. All that we know is that she is seemingly human, that she wears form-fitting garments tailored to her every curve, and that she carries a lethal looking sniper rifle. She has been spotted all around town atop various rooftops, though specifically which rooftops those were, no one knows.  

Whether she appeared at dusk or daylight is unknown. Whether she exists at all is also unknown. We must not rule out the mirages that our desert sun is wont to fool us with.

But listeners, listen: I _know_ I saw her. My photoreceptors are not infallible, of course, but they are a mite more reliable than human eyeballs. This woman could not have been a mirage. She was vivid, she was _living. Elle est vivante._

And her eyes— well… surely, her nose—? Her skin, the color of… no. Her hair was… Oh. Oh listeners.

For the first time, I cannot see. I cannot remember, and if this were the product of reeducation, I would have a cheerful note to remind me not to think of her, but I don’t.

She cannot be a mirage, can she? Please, if any of you have seen or remember anything about her, call in and let us know.

  

And now, we bring you our new segment titled Helpful Homemaking Tips.

Parents, remember to keep cookware OUT OF REACH OF CHILDREN. Items such as spatulas, rolling pins, stun guns, and egg whisks can prove fatal in young, inexperienced hands. City Council would like me to remind you that as knives no longer classify as kitchenware, do feel free to gift your youngsters with a Santoku, or maybe a cleaver to really brighten their day! Remember to utilize safe holding techniques as you dice your various ingredients. Vegetables, veal, venison, and viscera should be chopped using the claw grip, and if you do not have claws as your primary appendages, I suppose rearranging your fingers to resemble one would also work.

While on the topic of health hazards, the Grand Mesa General Hospital would like me to inform you that they are currently taking patients. We do not know where, but they are taking patients. We also do not know whether they are taking patients _somewhere_ or _from somewhere._ If you become a patient, perhaps call in so we can learn the new visitation hours. Remember, your family misses and worries for you.

Now, onto other news.

 

_~Hey, Zenny, have you looked out a window anytime recently?~_

 

Hm? No I _—_ oh... Oh dear. Listeners, I do not know how many of you have looked to the Northeast, past the WatchPoint, which, if you haven't, means you are doing your civic duty and _not_ thinking about it. But if you could afford to look _beyond_ it, there seems to be a storm approaching.

To my fellow omnics, and to our favorite cyborg, I must implore you _stay indoors_ . If you have any prior engagements, _abandon them._ Do not be caught in the deadly downpour that is looming threateningly at the horizon. Nothing is worth the horrible death of a desert storm. If our local government housing program and economy have failed you, and you have nowhere to go that fits the basic requirements of warmth, four walls, and a roof, do NOT go to the Library. A horrible death at the hands of a desert storm would be preferable to a demise at the mercy of the Librarians.

If you find yourself in dire straits, Old Woman Ana and her daughter Fareeha, out by the Hover Car Lot, and their Angels (who don’t exist) may have enough space in their trailer to house you. As for me, I will be staying inside our lovely radio station. Perhaps spend the night, if need be.

To those with a fully organic makeup who will not immediately perish in these conditions, please remember it is _strongly advisable_ to stay indoors as well. As is always expected, scavengers and junkers alike will wade through the destruction left behind- and it is very difficult to discern between artificial beings that are only standing from severe malfunctioning and perhaps erratic spasms, and a perfectly unharmed human silhouette.

 

And now, a word from our sponsors.

 

**B L U E A P R O N**

 

That has been a word from our sponsors.

 

The City Council wants me to remind you that despite any possible cloud cover that may come to be, our semi-annual Star Charts are due next week. As responsible citizens of Grand Mesa it is our intrinsic duty to watch the stars and to record the differences in the sky. It is imperative that you do not forget; to forget is to allow nothing to change. For how can we know things are different if we do not remember them as they were before?

Ah, listeners, I just received a message from Old Woman Ana and her daughter Fareeha. It is… not the best, but also not the worst of news. She says that their little trailer cannot hold any more beings seeking shelter from the oncoming storm, but the 16-Bit Hero Game Center and Shooting Range has plenty of open space and isn't too far from th _—_

Torbjörn just messaged me saying that no _—_ oh, that's extremely rude. Just... let it be known that Torbjörn is _not_ welcoming any omnics that _—_

Another message from Torbjörn, I am a little overwhelmed by messages right now, listeners, but he just said to ignore his previous statement, that there is plenty of room in his property and as long as you are quiet and do not wake him from the nap he will be having when you arrive, you are most welcome.

Well listeners of non-organic composition, you heard the man _—_ head on over! Though perhaps it is best to do so quietly. He seems to be in a foul mood that only slumber can cure.

 

_~A nap. Yeaaaah.~_

_-Pfft.-_

 

Next week Grand Mesa will hold its annual Craft Fair, and everyone is attending! Remember, if you made it, you can sell it! This does not apply to sentient beings, but does apply to your own personal belongings. I myself plan to be selling... well, that would just ruin the surprise, wouldn't it? But I will say that last year I purchased a simply marvelous concoction crafted by Old Woman Ana, made of course with the help of her daughter Fareeha, out by the Hover Car Lot's booth.  

Everyone is required to participate, so please remember to have at least a few unique items in your mandatory booth to make this Craft Fair as interesting and consensual as possible.

Some ideas for items that can be sold at the Craft Fair are as follows: baskets, blankets, paintings, soap, livers, emotions, handbags, memories, opinions, wall decals, greeting cards, and gallbladders. For the full list of items you can and cannot sell, please refer to the memo delivered to your mailboxes and/or uploaded onto your memory banks. We don't want a repeat of two years ago, when a certain Dr. O'Deorain thought that regenerating cells that were not from her own being were acceptable merchandise. They are not. And neither is it acceptable to have a gold and purple theme centered around peace and healing, discord and pain, when someone in this town already has such a theme in use. It is disrespectful and childish.

Grow up.

 

More on the Woman in the Purple Bodysuit.

Old Woman Ana called to tell us that she can see her. She sees her, and she tells us her outward appearance is full of lies. I wonder if this is the reason behind her physical elusiveness. I wonder why it is that Old Woman Ana can see her, but not us.

She says her Angels— or better said, one Angel in particular… The black one? You remember— she says her Angels have grown distraught at the Woman’s appearance. She says she did not know Angels were capable of weeping. She advises everyone to stay away from the Hover Car Lot for the time being, and would like to publicly thank Reinhardt over at Big Rein’s Currywurst, for letting Fareeha stay over at such short notice.

The Angels have proclaimed, amidst celestial tears, that the Woman does not mean to harm us. That the Woman did not mean to harm you. But the Angels have refused to say any more on the subject, swearing solemnly that to impart more knowledge on this wretched being’s reality would jeopardize our becoming one within the Iris.

And we wouldn’t want to mess with _that._  

 

Listeners, it appears the dust storm has finally arrived. As of now visibility around town has been brought down to zero. I hope you are all safe within your homes and not currently being torn apart by fierce sand particles worming their way in between your joints and shorting out your circuits with their unrelenting pileup. It is a small mercy that if someone were to be torn apart from within right now, you would not have to witness it, as the sands only allow for sight at a range of approximately three feet.

 

_-Yeesh. That sounds like a horrible way to go.-_

 

Yes, I presume it is an exceptionally painful way to be shut down, although the sand in itself is not the lone cause of death.

 

_~You know, I heard Blackwatch Secret Police Sheriff McCree say there's another word for these kinda storms. Haboobs?~_

_-Wha_ — _no, seriously? Haboobs?-_

_~Yeah, and apparently Old Woman Ana out by the Hover Car Lot said that they're called hab_ _ūbs_ _where she's from and the word haboobs is just derived from it.~_

_-Where do you learn this kinda stuff?-_

_~It's because I go out and actually TALK to people and not hole up in a station or moon at ‘cute cyborgs’ from afar.~_

_-Ouch. Also, I do not ‘moon’ over anyone. He’s just a friend that happens to be really cute.-_

_~If you mooned over him any more City Council would pass a law forbidding us from staring at you every fourth waxing crescent.~_

 

And seeing as our lovely intern and weatherman have finished today's Science Corner, I will now remove them from the studio and return to more air-worthy content, such as reporting on actual news.

 

_~Zenny you are no better than Lúcio we have all heard you talk about how ‘intriguing’ Gen—~_

 

Well, now that Intern Hana and Weatherman Lúcio have _willingly_ left my little booth, we will resume our regular programming.

 

The Grand Mesa Elementary School is promoting the teachings of acceptance and has asked me to further expound the concept. So remember, no matter if you are human, omnic, a beautiful and radiant amalgamation of both, or neither at all, you are deserving of love and acceptance.

I will admit that even I sometimes need to take a step back and remind myself of this, and I am not too big to admit it. We must all learn the difference between acceptance and forgiveness. We must all learn that the former must first be reached in order to truly experience the latter. Do not mistake acceptance for understanding. Understanding is oftentimes inconsequential, and more a detriment than a boon. Understanding is a rest stop on the journey towards acceptance— convenient, but not altogether necessary.

So even if you brutally attempted to slaughter your kin, it is not for I, nor anyone else to question the forgiveness granted by the victim. It is not for us to understand.

The steps we take after reaching acceptance can be difficult, and vary case by case. If you let a relationship grow distant due to miscommunication, or have someone take a fall for you that was not theirs to take, there is always a chance for change and improvement. Betterment is a long and arduous process. Accept your differences so that you may find similarities. Perhaps there will be something to gain.

And now, traffic.

 

Sheriff McCree has informed us that he received a text from an ‘Unknown Number’ that reads, "not a buckley's of us goin out in this weather, m8"

Sheriff McCree has responded with, "new phone who dis?"

I should inform you that when I say it is a message from an ‘Unknown Number,’ I mean it is literally a contact saved as ‘Unknown Number’ and not, say, a stranger's 9-digit code that has never been registered within the phone. However, any other information regarding the matter is for the Blackwatch Secret Police and our beloved Sheriff to handle.

This has been traffic. Now, onto news surrounding our favorite cyborg.

 

Listeners, I am getting a message from one of the scientists that accompanied Genji when he first came to our town. She goes by the name of Mei-Ling Zhou, and the message has suffered minor damage through the storm. I am to assume her topic is on the habūb, seeing as her specialty is climatology. I will do my best to translate the damaged, and possibly encrypted, data.

 

.

.

.

.

 

_-Uh... Zen? You've been radio silent for a solid minute, man. You okay?-_

 

Lúcio, would you have any idea as to why the climatologist of the group of scientists Genji accompanies would ask me about... someone's... favored flowers? I assume it is someone's favored flowers— the data is damaged but the code does seem to signify a name. The part that is clear is that she is “asking for a friend".

 

_-...No? I mean, I went over a bit before we went on air to chat with everyone, but I don't remember talking about flowers. For what it’s worth, I like begonias and orchids. I’m pretty sure Hana likes lilies and tulips.-_

 

Ah yes! Perhaps Intern Hana will have some light to shed on the context of this... odd question. Have you seen her?

 

_-Not since you kicked us out of the booth. She said she had to meet up with someone and just left.-_

 

That is... concerning.

Listeners, if you see our intern please ask her to please come back to the radio station. Neither I nor Lúcio can step outside in these conditions, and we are a little worried.

Though I'm sure she's fine! This _is_ Hana Song we are talking about.

The same plea applies if anyone manages to catch sight of Intern Lena.

 

Update on the habūb: we still cannot see a single thing outside the windows other than the color brown, so I am going to assume it is still rather treacherous out.

 

This just in:

The Blackwatch Secret Police have issued a city-wide warning. They ask that you be on the lookout for a Woman in a Purple Bodysuit, carrying a sniper rifle. She is about 5 foot _something,_ with hair that may or may not be black or blonde, and presumably possesses human features.

She was last seen a minute ago, right on the outskirts of the WatchPoint. The Woman in the Purple Bodysuit was reportedly seen in the sunless brown, standing next to the Hooded Figure.

The Hooded Figure was smoking. Not smoking a cigarette, electronic or otherwise. Simply smoking.

Witnesses claim the Hooded Figure turned to look at them, and the deep immortal despair in its eye sockets captured their attention so completely that they were unable to ascertain whether or not the Woman actually has a face.

One witness claims she has eight eyes, and despite such a startling accusation, witnesses were unable to provide a single useful lead to the police.

Whether or not they were a mirage brought on by the storm is _still_ unclear. But both she and the Hooded Figure were standing side by side, multiple eyes trained on the silhouette of the WatchPoint through the gloom of the dust.

“Now please do not think about it,” the Secret Police then interjected.

“I mean you, Zenyatta. Kindly stop talkin’ ‘bout it.” Sheriff McCree just added. Ah, right.

Seeing as no one can go out into the storm to question the Woman, the police still ask for your help in finding her. The Blackwatch Secret Police do not ask that you brave the habūb in order to report any sightings, but stress that doing so would be _very nice_ and may even earn you extra stamps on your Alert Citizen card. In the meantime, please commit any sightings to memory.

 

Listeners, I believe my sound receptors have picked up on the first few raindrops falling against our little station window. Soon the clouds of dust will be weighed down by a torrent of rain. And while I am safe inside the radio station, and know that stepping outside would cause me great irreversible damage, I cannot help but think that the sound of rain is... tranquil. It is the small, irregular beat of the world around us— just another natural phenomenon. So complex and yet so simple. I wonder, can you hear the rain through my reporting? I shall be silent for a moment so that you may hear.

 

.- .-.. . .-. -

 

-.. --- / -. --- - / ... .-.. . . .--.

 

Ahh… Truly quite a soft sound. Is it not, listeners?

 

... .-.. . . .--. / -. --- .-- --..-- / .- -. -.. / -.-- --- ..- / ... .... .- .-.. .-.. / -. . ...- . .-. / .-- .- -.- . .-.-.- / -.. --- / -. --- - / - .- -.- . / --- ..- .-. / .-.. ..- .-.. .-.. .- -... .. . ... / ..-. --- .-. / .-.. --- ...- . .-.-.-

 

.. - / .. ... / .- / .-. . -- .. -. -.. . .-. / --- ..-. / .-- .... .- - / -.-- --- ..- / .... .- ...- . / -.. --- -. . / .- -. -.. / .... .- ...- . / -. --- - / -.. --- -. . .-.-.-

 

I should ask Lúcio if he would be willing to create music out of the rain. Although I do not know if he could do more to improve such a beautiful sound.

 

_-I could try!-_

 

.-- . / .... .- ...- . / --- -. .-.. -.-- / - .... . / ... .... --- .-. - / - .. -- . / --. .. ...- . -. / --- ..-. / ..- ... / - --- / .-- .- .-. -. / -.-- --- ..- / -... . .. -. --. ... / -... . .-.. --- .-- .-.-.-

 

.- / -.. .-. . .- -- / ... .... .- .-.. .-.. / -.. . ... -.-. . -. -.. / ..- .--. --- -. / -.-- --- ..- / .- -. -.. / . -. -.. / - .... --- ... . / .-- .... --- / -... . .-.. .. . ...- . / .. - .-.-.- / .. - / ... .... .- .-.. .-.. / -.. . ... - .-. --- -.-- / - .... --- ... . / .-- .... --- / -.. --- / -. --- - .-.-.-

 

\- .... --- ... . / .-- .... --- / --- -. -.-. . / .-- . .-. . / -.-- --- ..- .-. / .- .-.. .-.. .. . ... / .- .-. . / -. --- .-- / -.-- --- ..- .-. / . -. . -- .. . ...

 

\- .... --- ... . / .-- .... --- / --- -. -.-. . / .-- . .-. . / -.-- --- ..- .-. / . -. . -- .. . ... / .- .-. . / -. --- .-- / -.-- --- ..- .-. / .- .-.. .-.. .. . ...

 

Secret Sheriff McCree has come in to report that the WatchPoint, while never to be approached or even considered, should be given an even larger radius for the time being. It appears as though the Hooded Figure has created a swirling black miasma in the rain. However, we expect it to dissipate before nightfall. A distance of... half a mile should do. That is, if you are foolish enough to even go outside. I also asked him if he saw our Intern Hana. He has not. I asked if he saw the Woman in the Purple Bodysuit, and he grew silent.

Now, in other news...

 

\- .... . / -- .- -. / .-- .-. . .- - .... . -.. / .. -. / ... .... .- -.. --- .-- ... / -- --- ..- .-. -. ... / - .... . / .-.. --- ... ... / --- ..-. / .... .. ... / .... . .- .-. - / .- -. -.. / .-.. --- ...- . .-.-.- / ..-. .- .-.. .-.. . -. / .- -. -.. / -.. .. ... --. .-. .- -.-. . -.. .-.-.-

 

\- .... . / -- .- -. / .-- .-. . .- - .... . -.. / .. -. / .-.. .. --. .... - / -- .. ... ... . -.. / .... .. ... / --- .--. .--. --- .-. - ..- -. .. - -.-- / .- -. -.. / .-.. . ..-. - / .... .. ... / .-.. --- ...- . .-. / - --- / ..-. .- .-.. .-.. .-.-.- / .- / -.-. --- .-- .- .-. -.. / .- -. -.. / .- / ..-. --- --- .-.. .-.-.-

 

-... . .. -. --. ... / -... . .-.. --- .-- --..-- / .-.. . .- .-. -. / ..-. .-. --- -- / - .... . .. .-. / -- .. ... - .- -.- . ... .-.-.- / ..-. --- .-. / - .... . -.-- / -- .- -.-- / -.-- . - / -... . / --. .. ...- . -. / .- / -.-. .... .- -. -.-. . .-.-.- / -.-- --- ..- / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / -. --- - / -... . / --. .. ...- . -. / - .... .. ... / -.-. .... .- -. -.-. . .-.-.-

 

-.. --- / -. --- - / ... .-.. . . .--. / --- -. / - .... . / .-- .- .-. -. .. -. --. ... / --- ..-. / ..- ... .-.-.-

 

Ah! Listeners, the rain is coming down quite hard now, did you even hear the last repo—? I have gotten a call from Old Woman Ana. She says that the Angels are acting strangely. It seems as if they are... reaping? No, weeping. Sorry, her note is a little smudged by the rain. She says the Angels continue to weep. Or reap. Ah... Can yo— —hear me listeners? The rain is quite torrential n— —for now, we will go to the weather, until you can proper— —ar me over this downpour—!

 

\- .-. ..- ... - / -. --- / --- -. . / -... ..- - / --- -. . / .- -. --- - .... . .-. .-.-.- / -.-- --- ..- / .-.. --- ... . / -.-- --- ..- .-. / - .-. ..- ... - / -.-- --- ..- / .-.. --- ... . / -.-- --- ..- .-. / -... . .. -. --. .-.-.-

 

[ -Raisin' the volume!- ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IEOFPvlNEFM)

 

And we are back! I must admit something quite odd happened here at the station during our little break.

 

_-Understatement of the dang century, I’d say.-_

 

I received a call, listeners. I received a call from someone whose name I did not quite catch, but who gruffly told me not to worry too much about it, as Angels do seem to have that effect on mortals.

I’ve never been called mortal before. It was an interesting reminder of my own mortality.

Now, I do not know if this call was some form of dare or prank call, seeing as no one has actually ever offered concrete proof of having spoken to one such being— even Old Woman Ana’s word is simply that: her word.

But dear listeners, I fear this caller may indeed have been an Angel. My face, which is nothing more than a chrome faceplate topped by blinking lights… My face grew warm. It grew hot, not by mechanical overheating, but by a blindingly raw sense of Righteousness that may perhaps be misplaced. And when I reached to answer the phone’s incessant ringing, my head and the entire booth were filled with their Voice, and filled with a dark light. And I trembled as every detail, every atom in our surrounding existence came into focus.

And the Angel— if an Angel is truly what such a fearsome power is— the Angel said that the Woman in the Purple Bodysuit with the sniper rifle was a string left loose to tangle and fray. A string cut off, for she is from _above,_ and we are all _beneath._  

Above our heads lies a world, vast and terrible.  

I asked the Angel— who of course does not exist— to elaborate. The Angel whispered only, “A man wreathed in shadows, a man wreathed in light.”

And it filled me with both euphoria and trepidation.  

 

_-For a second there I couldn’t remember English.-_

 

Yes, you were speaking Portuguese. You were screaming in it. And I suddenly understood. I understood the message hidden within tears.

The line went dead, and with it died that sense of understanding. That forbidden knowledge now lies out of my reach, impossible to recover, impossible to reclaim.

And somehow, I wept.

 

Now I may be speaking from the privileged perspective of being an omnic, but I’m not entirely sure why a hypothetical being such as, say, an Angel, would bother using a phone to relay any message upon this studio’s audience.

 

Meanwhile, the rains passed through our little community, likely not to return again for many months. Perhaps even years. You never know when living in a desert. Old Woman Ana and her daughter Fareeha have reported that the Angels have gone quiet. Not in a way that concerns us mortals, but in a way that feels… mortal. That's what's written on this thankfully dry note given to me by Old Woman Ana herself. She seems to think that the much more convenient way of sending me messages through radio waves in the air is being flawed by the marvels of Mother Nature.

While I can politely disagree with her on that regard, I am happy to inform you that she was accompanied by our missing Intern Hana. As it turns out, Hana left the studio to meet up with Dr. Zhou to ask about the storms in Grand Mesa. On her way back she ran into Old Woman Ana, out by the Hover Car Lot, and they walked here together. Ana also told me the odd message Dr. Zhou sent me was in fact meant for her. Something—

 

_~Climatology-related,~_

 

...That is—

 

_~Very hard to explain without charts and diagrams and stuff.~_

 

She also wanted to pass on the message that Dr. Zhou has been unnerved by the storm. Her unease has nothing to do with the ferocity of it. Her unease stems from the fact that it never happened. Not one of the scientists’ instruments picked up any reading from the storm as it happened.

And now it is gone.

Perhaps the problem is that the instruments were brought inside in an effort to protect them from the weather? No? Ah well, what do I know about climatology? Perhaps you will have better luck next time, Mei-Ling Zhou.

Perhaps next time, friends of Genji.

 

As the sun sets, we can see the black mist from the WatchPoint fade into the sweet, damp air. Even with the tragedy that comes with every rain, there is good in it. Bringing moisture and cool into a place that is unfamiliar with either. And now it is time to do something we are all familiar, or wish to be familiar, with.

Rest.

Sleep.

Energy-Saving Mode.

Goodnight, Grand Mesa. Goodnight.

  
  


Today's Proverb: To forgive is not to forget, to forgive is to take the twisted thornbush that was what hurt you, and weave it into a basket to hold something new. To forget is to burn the bush entirely, wasting the chance to gain something from your pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuckin Heck
> 
> also _sleepysak is the sweetest human being in all of creation, a gift to the world, and certainly a gift to me!_ And also an absolute joy to write with  think i cant play this game, huh punk?
> 
>  
> 
> So, here's those translations:
> 
> ALERT  
> DO NOT SLEEP
> 
> SLEEP NOW, AND YOU SHALL NEVER WAKE. DO NOT TAKE OUR LULLABIES FOR LOVE.  
> IT IS A REMINDER OF WHAT YOU HAVE DONE AND HAVE NOT DONE.
> 
> WE HAVE ONLY THE SHORT TIME GIVEN OF US TO WARN YOU BEINGS BELOW.  
> A DREAM SHALL DESCEND UPON YOU AND END THOSE WHO BELIEVE IT. IT SHALL DESTROY THOSE WHO DO NOT.  
> THOSE WHO ONCE WERE YOUR ALLIES ARE NOW YOUR ENEMIES  
> THOSE WHO ONCE WERE YOUR ENEMIES ARE NOW YOUR ALLIES
> 
> THE MAN WREATHED IN SHADOWS MOURNS THE LOSS OF HIS HEART AND LOVE. FALLEN AND DISGRACED.  
> THE MAN WREATHED IN LIGHT MISSED HIS OPPORTUNITY AND LEFT HIS LOVER TO FALL. A COWARD AND A FOOL.  
> BEINGS BELOW, LEARN FROM THEIR MISTAKES. FOR THEY MAY YET BE GIVEN A CHANCE. YOU WILL NOT BE GIVEN THIS CHANCE.  
> DO NOT SLEEP ON THE WARNINGS OF US.
> 
> TRUST NO ONE BUT ONE ANOTHER. YOU LOSE YOUR TRUST YOU LOSE YOUR BEING.


End file.
